There was a beautiful time.

I am made, crudely, for success.

Don't let the wicked city get you down.

I didn't know what I was doing in New York.

I was supposed to be having the time of my life.

I wanted to be where nobody I knew could ever come.

When they asked me what I wanted to be I said I didn't know.

I couldn’t see the point of getting up. I had nothing to look forward to.

The trouble was, I had been inadequate all along, I simply hadn't thought about it.

The one thing I was good at was winning scholarships and prizes, and that era was coming to an end.

The floor seemed wonderfully solid. It was comforting to know I had fallen and could fall no farther.

There ought, I thought, to be a ritual for being born twice - patched, retreaded and approved for the road.

Not easy to state the change you made. If I'm alive now, I was dead, Though, like a stone, unbothered by it.

There I went again, building up a glamorous picture of a man who would love me passionately the minute he met me, and all out of a few prosy nothings.

I wondered why I couldn't go the whole way doing what I should any more. This made me sad and tired. Then I wondered why I couldn't go the whole way doing what I shouldn't, the way Doreen did, and this made me even sadder and more tired.

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